Even at Our Worst

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November 5th, 1997

My fists are clenched as I glare at the front of the room, refusing to take notes. Before the class, Alecto Carrow paces back and forth, spewing nonsense about Muggles.

Beneath the table, my leg bounces up and down furiously, itching for a fight. On one side of me, Daphne sits with fury on her face. On my other, Draco slides his hand under the table to rest on my knee, steadying the tapping of my foot.

As Alecto describes to us how Muggles have, "beaten us into submission, and that it's, "our time to fight back", I'm focused on Draco's hand squeezing my leg, willing me to reign it in.

"It's such bullshit!" I exclaim as soon as we're out of class and down the corridor. "That— that this can be considered a proper education—!"

"Trust me, Burke, I think we all know that," Blaise mumbles, trailing behind me with Theo.

"I mean, it's like she's never read a book in her entire, miserable—"

"Watch what you say, Violet," Draco reminds me, a hand on my arm. He casts a furtive glance over his shoulder; you never know who's listening, nowadays.

I huff. "And, even if we know that it's complete—"

"Hogwash?" Daphne offers from my other side.

"Yes, precisely," I nod, "If they're saying that to first years? Other pure-bloods who don't know any better—?"

"Alaire," Blaise interrupts. "Merlin, if it's still like this for her whole time at Hogwarts—"

"I do I hope this war business doesn't last that long," Pansy tuts, appearing at Blaise's side. Crabbe and Goyle follow her, joining our crowd as we round the corner on the way to Transfiguration— a breath of fresh air, as McGonagall would never bow to the absurdity that has gripped this castle.

"'War business'," Draco scoffs, shaking his head.

"What, Malfoy?" Pansy fires back.

"Nothing, nothing," Draco sighs, stepping ahead of me to open the classroom door and let us all in.

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November 22nd, 1997

Draco and I sit at the top of the astronomy tower, legs dangling through the railing bars. I rest my head against the cool metal and wrap my cloak tight around me, watching puffs of air leave my lips.

"They're going to get suspicious," Draco says, his shoulder bouncing against mine. "You've never turned anyone in."

I bite my lip, sighing. "I know."

His hand finds my back, sweeping back and forth soothingly. "I know you'd never so much as hurt a pixie, but—"

"I thought about hexing you on more than a few occasions, if I remember correctly," I smirk. I blow out another cloud of hot air and watch as it condenses. Lazily, I wave my wand at it, arranging the fog into a flying dragon. I smile despite myself.

Draco's arm has wrapped around me, his hand finding my shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Same to you, Burke," he laughs beneath his breath, and I see the exhale in the corner of my eye.

He shrugs, the motion moving my body as well. "Still, I hate to say it, but—"

"They'll make me do it soon. Don't worry, I'm well aware."

I turn my head against the railing to look at him. He laughs, his free hand skating across my forehead. "Left a mark." His fingers run over my skin, feeling the imprint.